Case Numbers
by Brandishing No.2 Pencils
Summary: A collection of prompts from Layton Brothers. Continued after "Case No.? To Silence a Thinker". Case No. 2: Hilda muses about the time when the three of them were just getting used with working with each other. NOT.
1. Case No 1

**Author's note: Spinoff of Case No.? To Silence a Thinker. I tried to get their reactions right, but nevertheless, reviews would be good.**

_Case No.1: Al's Conversations_

* * *

_Alfendi has no choice but to engage in conversations with himself at night after hours of work. Placid just decides to humor him._

* * *

7:00 pm– Prologue

"Four years on, and still it smarts," Alfendi drawled, rubbing his head slowly with his long fingers as he attempted to ease the increasing pain. Sighing in exasperation, he pressed his forehead on the cool surface of the glass window in his office, hearing the harsh pattering of the rain and the soft thunder at the distance. He hated how the rhythmic tap dance of H20 still relaxes him.

"The heavens opened that night, and the rain sheeted down," he gritted. He exhaled sharply, turning his almost invisible reflection into mist. "That fateful night when I lost my way."

His other hand moved on its own accord, placing itself above his beating heart. Imaginary pain spun a web of discomfort above the area, and then he suddenly couldn't breathe. He stood up abruptly, stumbling backwards in his haste as he clutched his chest.

"_When..._" he choked out, _"...he killed me._"

A flash of lightning bathed the room in white, as thunder echoed loudly in his ears...

"So..." his placid self spoke out from the depths of his mind. "Are you done with your drama yet?"

"It's not a drama!" Alfendi shot back. "It's my—"

"Yeah, yeah. _Horror story_," Placid deadpanned, as Al felt him roll his eyes. "For new recruits."

7:05 pm– Speech

"I'm practicing my _monologue_ to scare away _fragile_ recruits," Al corrected. "Good gracious! Get your scrambled facts straight."

"Whatever you say, drama queen," Placid said. "Now, if you would kindly turn on the main light in this office–"

"Afraid of a little dark?" Alfendi grinned.

"Er...I was very sure that I saw a _roach_–"

"What?! Where?!"

Alfendi scrambled for leverage as he stood up on his chair.

"How would I know where?" Placid replied with a hint of humor in his voice. "You didn't turn on the light."

7:11– Cockroach

"There was no roach crawling around, was there?" Alfendi inquired with a hint of anger in his voice.

Placid hummed thoughtfully. "He's occupying my personal space right now, actually."

7:12– Insult

Alfendi growled. "I'll get rid of that careless mouth of yours!"

"_It's yours too!_" Placid countered reasonably.

"Damn it! Come over here and I'll proceed to cut off your tongue..."

"Gladly," Placid answered. "That way, we'll both be eternally mute and speechless."

7:30– Tired

Placid sat back as he rubbed his aching muscles. He never felt so injured in his entire life. He swore quietly as he heard the other him chuckle.

"Shall we get on to the next round?" the other Al said silkily as he cracked his knuckles.

"First," Placid gasped out as he massaged a bruise on his arm. "I need to ask..."

"What?" the other Al asked impatiently.

Placid glared at him mentally. "Why the hell are you beating yourself up, you idiot?"

8:00– Question

"You know," Alfendi spoke after thirty minutes. "That's a really bloody good question. You see–"

"It was a rhetorical question," Placid interrupted.

8:20– Joke

"So shall we solve a case?" Placid questioned him. He flinched as his body jumped up, grabbed a whole shelf of thick, yellow folders and dropped it on his desk.

Alfendi's face split with excitement. "Let's do _this_."

Placid gaped at the amount of work he had to do tonight. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Of course, I am."

9:00– Chocolate

"Whether you like it or not, , we will _take a break_," Placid said as he grabbed a bar of chocolate from a side table. He brandished it at Alfendi's face.

"Kitkat?"

Alfendi grumbled at the distraction. "Fine!" he exclaimed as he unwrapped it and bit the snack without breaking it in half.

"AAAAAAAAH!" Placid panicked. Alfendi dropped the snack in surprise.

"WHAT?" he demanded.

"THAT'S NOT THE WAY YOU EAT IT!" Placid hollered.

9:10– Pizza

Alfendi surveyed the flat box lying on top of his cases. "What have you done, you moron?"

"It's called '_pizza delivery_'," Placid said lightly, a hand reaching for the box, but Alfendi grabbed his arm and shoved it off.

"Don't mock me! I obviously know what it is you've done. The info I'm after is whether you're expecting me to ingest that piece of cardboard with red paint splattered all over it!"

"I'm the host here," Placid pointed out. "My pizza, my rules."

Alfendi's eyes squinted suspiciously. "Do you have any IDEA what pizza contains?"

"The lethal combination of bread, cheese, tomatoes, and pepperoni," Placid mused. "I might be as well feeding us poison, eh?"

9:15– Relationship

"I despise you."

"I hate you too."

9:17– Sandwich

Placid grabbed a random folder from the pile. He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the suspects. He closed it, picked a pen and hovered it over the cover. "So what shall we name it?"

"The Stupid Sandwich of Stupidness," Al suggested.

"Too redundant. Let's name it...'The Hand Sandwich'," Placid decided.

"_The Stupid Sandwich of Stupidness_," his other self persisted.

9:19– Command

"I therefore declare...a very strict diet."

"_Noooooooooooooooooo_!"

9:21– Time

"_I'm dying._"

"It's been barely two minutes, you spineless invertebrate."

9:25– Gah!

"I therefore invoke...my right to eat pizza," Placid declared.

"_Nooooooooooooooooooooo_!"

9:30–Love

"Out of curiosity," Alfendi started after a few minutes of silence. "Which of us do you think has the best chance with the female masses?"

Placid was taken aback by the unexpected question. "I...er..."

"I think they'll prefer me," Al told him. "A smarter male who has the irresistible charm, rather than a male who doesn't have an idea what women like."

"Excuse me?" Placid said, offended. "I'll have to question your logic. A potential psychopath...or a potential caring husband?"

"A _child_ or a _man_?"

"The snide master of cynicism or everyone's bestfriend?"

"A _hermit living in the comforts of pizza_, or _an adventurer_?"

"Plain pasta hater or a food fanatic?"

"Someone who works at the field or someone who exercises with _virtual pixels_?"

"Al_fiend_i or Al_friend_i?"

Alfendi paused. "That was a lame Al_pun_di."

Placid smirked. "Layton or Lameton?"

Alfendi cocked his head. "_Placid...or Potty_?"

9:40– Brother

"Both–"

"Both–!"

"_Both is good._"

10:00– Tomorrow

"Why do we get idiotic assistants?" Alfendi inquired. "Can't we get a thinker for a change?"

"Tomorrow, we'll find out. That is...if you don't make an episode," Placid responded.

Alfendi rose. "I'm going to meet up with those Level 5 geniuses."

"The poor fourth wall," Placid mourned, staring at the remains of the shattered simulation screen.

11:00– Result

"So how did it go?" Placid asked.

"You were there, you dumb moron," Alfendi lashed out.

"Yes," Placid confirmed. "I was just observing how you took their response called '_evil laughter'_."

12:00– Face

"What do you think our new assistant looks like?" Alfendi asked.

"I haven't got the idea," Placid replied, tossing away a case file. "But I'm sure you'll voice out your unwanted opinion anyway."

"I guess," Alfendi mused, ignoring Placid's answer. "That she will be wearing an orange hat the size of a watermelon, and she shall wear a green upper garment. She'll be petite but perky, and she will have eyes like shining lakes of crimson glory–"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but would those be the characteristics of your dream girl?"

"W-what?!" Alfendi sputtered defensively. "Are you mental?! What gave you that dumb idea?"

Placid sighed deeply, as he closed his eyes. "The fandom."

1:00– Sleep

"I came up with a better welcoming line for our assistant," Alfendi declared happily.

"..."

"When the introductions are in order and she asks who am I, I will tell her..."

"..."

"...don't you know who I am? I am ..."

"..."

"Your worst nightmare."

"That's amusing," Placid whispered. "And then I'll laugh at it because it was just so corny."

"Go to sleep. Goodnight."

"No really...you have an amazing sense of dark humor–"

"_Goodnight, Placid._"


	2. Case No 2 Part One

**Case No.2: Hilda's Preference Part One**

Timeline: **Al, Hilda, and Justin are just beginning to get used with working with each other. NOT.**

* * *

_Whatever they may say…whatever they'll tell me…. I will not deny that the new Alfendi is nicer and more of a gentleman than the real one. Until Lucy questioned me, __**"Wot' is it tha' you like abou' Potty Prof?"**__ did I ever consider my preference….._

_When the placid Al first came out, I was so angry at him due to the fact that he admitted that he was a murderer at that time. The real Alfendi was nothing of the sort. He was everything a gentleman isn't…..except being a killer._

* * *

A single sunlight wasn't present that gloomy day. Every inch of the blue skyscape was covered with gray, and sheets of rain poured down mercilessly, drenching the earth thousands of feet below it. Lightning would flash and disappear, and the sound of thunder would rock people to their core.

Hilda is reminded of a whip cracking at a moment's notice whenever she muses about this particular weather phenomenon. But it wasn't the only thing that reminded her of a whip…

The other one is person. Or rather, that person's certain speech organ.

And it annoys her to no end.

Even if she is just hearing it from the other side of the door to the interrogation room.

She checked her golden pocket watch and noted that Alfendi's tongue should've stopped lashing out at the suspect ten minutes ago, especially after he begrudgingly promised that he'll make it quick.

_This is Alfendi_, Hilda thought. _He's probably babbling a monologue about his so-called brilliant mind, right now._

Hilda pressed her ears closer, not because she couldn't hear Al, but because she wanted to find out what the main suspect is saying—_stammering_—at the moment.

"…H-how did you know that i-it was the m-murder weapon I've used?"

"I am astonishingly brilliant with my genius self, that's how," was the immature inspector's snarky reply. "Who would've guessed that you would use a loose, wooden floorboard to hit your wife Mahoganey's head? After using it, you promptly put it back where it belongs. You don't own many heavy things, being the poor, abusive rascal you are."

"S-stop! Please…" the suspect pleaded.

"How blatantly stupid of you to forget to put the floorboard back the right way. The off color against the other floorboards was a dead giveaway," Alfendi taunted. "And the unfortunate snagged sample of Mahoganey's hair upon it….ahaha... a last farewell to your freedom."

"N-no…"

Hilda could feel the culprit's heavy breathing. Somehow, she could feel the distress radiating from where she was standing.

Alfendi tutted. "I also happened to have the autopsy report right over here."

A sudden pound on the desk made Hilda wince.

"How many years did she have to endure being bruised by you?! What an inconvenience to this case! It took us long enough to find the death blow...isn't that right, Hilda?"

She gasped as the vertical surface she was leaning on suddenly vanished. Hilda stumbled in, flailing her arms wildly. Nevertheless, she was able to regain her composure immediately. After all, she needed to deliver a harsh glare to the smirking face before her.

Alfendi's outfit was presentable, yes. The red tie went well with the smooth, grey suit. His brass buttons and shoes were polished so much that they almost seemed to glow. He would have passed as a proper gentleman… if it weren't for his naturally-dishevelled, crimson hair that framed his smug expression.

_Gangster_, Hilda secretly called him.

She sighed exasperatedly. "Are you really that heartless, you moron, that you only acknowledged the forensics' so-called slowness and not the victim's hardships?"

"Did you just call me moron?" Alfendi inquired. The grin did not flee from his lips. "Might as well cut off your nice, little tongue for calling me so."

Hilda sharply turned her head to the snivelling heap to her right. The first time the culprit was called in; he looked so frightening with his beefy muscles. He literally looked like he could kill anyone with his thumb. And yet, he was reduced to a baby by the skinny inspector before her.

"How cruel you are," Hilda murmured. "Always threatening your co-workers. Always scaring off anyone who comes within your blast radius. Is there anything that you could say without a narcissistic reply? IDIOT!"

Alfendi simply chuckled. "Careful, Hilda. You might end up like Mahoganey."

He then proceeded to arrest the criminal.

He smiled sinisterly as he did so.

* * *

The next day was a paperwork day, much to Hilda's distress. She filled up and signed page after page after page of a case file. She could hear Justin doing the same on his desk next to her.

She glanced before her and saw Alfendi, with his back to her, writing faster than the speed of a bullet.

Just then, he jumped up from his seat and hollered, "Finished at last! I'm onto the next case. Whoop!"

Hilda flicked her hand swiftly upon her signature, ending her work with a flourish. "Me either. Justin?"

"Three more pages," Justin grumbled.

"When did you start that?" Alfendi raised an eyebrow at his partner's smaller heap. "Before paper was invented?"

"Al," Justin warned without looking up.

"Layton," Hilda said through clenched teeth. "We've only been with you for _three_ months, but we couldn't take this kind of cruel treatment from you anymore."

The arrogant inspector shrugged. "It isn't my fault that they fail to provide us separate and spacious offices."

"You can stay at the back office, then. We really could use some peace here," the blonde woman spat back. She folded her arms, keeping her gaze trained solely on Al.

"I would love to," Alfendi drawled, hunching his back and facing Hilda head on, as if he intended to confront her about her existence. "But of course, ladies first."

"Indeed." Hilda pulled her sleeve up and clenched her fist. "_Ladies_ first, Al. Do you want to go ahead?"

Alfendi snarled and pulled back. He studied Hilda from head to toe, and then cocked his head to the side. "Let us resolve this in the most mature way possible."

Hilda instantly got ready as she saw him raise a fist, anticipating a blow. A fist fight, huh? Years of tedious training in martial arts will finally pay off. Days of exercising, push-ups and sit-ups have prepared her for this. Inspector Alfendi Layton will have no idea what hit him in the butt.

"Rock, paper or scissors?" Alfendi challenged.

"Huh?"

"The loser goes to the back office," he said, smirking. He brandished his fist at the space between the two of them.

Hilda blinked once, staring at the fist. "The most mature way possible…."

"Well?"

"Fine!" she exclaimed, raising her own. "I'll play your little game. Also, the winner gets to have the loser to be her slave for a week."

"Or his," Al shot back.

They readied their stances, and shouted in unison: "ROCK, PAPER, SCISSO—AAARGH! JUSTIIIIN!"

Justin had passed between them, bumping and scrambling their hands in the process. He looked up and said, "Sorry. I just _happened_ to finish my files. I also _happened_ to need to put them here."

"Mind your way next time," Alfendi growled. "Again, Hilda."

They lifted their fists again, intent on beating the other. "ROCK, PAPER, SCI—"

Justin walked between them once more. "I _happened_ to forget the other one."

"We can see the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips, Justin," Hilda told him.

"One. More." Alfendi emphasized, getting all worked up. "ROCK. PAPER. SCISSORS!"

Suddenly, the door burst open and the Commisioner strode in with his arms at his back. "What was that racket—?"

The highest ranking officer gawked at his two top detectives waving finger guns at each other.

"You cheated!" they exclaimed at each other.

"What is happening here?!" the Commissioner demanded.

Justin raised a hand, getting his attention. "They were finding out who will be moving to the back office."

"And they intended to resolve this—"

"—in the most mature way possible," Justin confirmed. "A game of rock, paper, and scissors."

Commissioner Barton gazed at them, one white eyebrow raised. He cleared his throat loudly. "Mr. Layton, kindly let go of Ms. Pertinax's collar. And Ms. Pertinax, if you would release your grip on Mr. Layton's tie…"

The duo were then aware of their positions. They obeyed him instantly, and dusted their clothes off, looking at anything but Barton. Both of their faces were flushed. Alfendi's hair was a rat's nest, and Hilda's sleeve was wrinkled.

"There. Now that you have composed yourselves, I will start by saying that no one is going to move to the back office," Barton stated. "Secondly, I have a baffling case for you, three."

He threw several files at a nearby table as he ignored the fog of dust he sent flying. Alfendi made a beeline for it, and started skimming the contents.

Hilda rolled her eyes at him. He would always be the one to see things through first.

"Forgive me, Commissioner, but you told us that it was baffling," Alfendi started, scrunching his nose. "The victims were killed by headshots. The murderer's fingerprints found on every murder weapon. Camera hidden and captured his face…huh. The culprit was no other than…."

He halted.

"Who?" Hilda questioned him when he did not continue. She snatched the file from his hands. To her surprise, he made no move to stop her.

"Mr. Gunn Hitman," Hilda read. "Ah…the notorious serial killer."

"Alfendi," Justin pointed at a crumpled piece of paper at his hand. "What's that?"

The redhead quickly hid it behind his back. He pressed himself against the wall, as if he wanted to become one with it. To Hilda, he looked like a cornered animal, although he tried to blank his face with obvious effort. He tightened his grip on the sheet.

"N-n-nothing…" he forced out.

"It's the case I wanted him to get solved," the Commissioner answered for him. "Looks like he's done it. Unfortunately, Alfendi, you must share that piece of information."

Alfendi hesitated. Then slowly, he freed the paper from its prison and threw it with precision towards Justin's outstretched arm.

Justin carefully unravelled it, flattening the edges and trying to make sense of the detailed drawing sketched all over it. Various colored lines criss-crossed and intersected at points. There were also arrows and hastily erased words scattered all over the area. As Hilda went to examine it closer, she saw places like Scotland Yard, streets, hospitals, bus stations, etcetera.

"It's a map," she observed.

"It's a _puzzle_ map," Al corrected, curling his upper lip in displeasure.

"A map, all the same," Hilda huffed. "You should sort out your priorities, Layton."

Alfendi grumbled inaudibly. Hilda heard something like, '_Father's fault…grumble…puzzles…'_

"A map of what?" Justin interrupted.

"Mr. Gunn's hideout, probably," Barton said. "It's an invitation...and a trap."

"So why does that scum have to send us this? Surely, he knows we are not dumb enough to go there without back up."

Hilda stared at the map, trying to solve the puzzle and locate the culprit's position. She tried many possibilities of crossings but it failed to add up. She threw up her arms in frustration.

"Layton, come here and—" she stopped, looking around. "Where is he?"

He had left them without their knowledge.

"Damn it, Alfendi." Justin pounded his fist. "He's probably on his way to the hideout right now."

"Is Alfendi, in actuality, a _ghost_?" the Commissioner whispered.

Hilda pinched the bridge of her nose. A migraine started pressing from all sides of her head. And it is not going to help the situation. Surely, Al_dumb_di left a message or note?

_The puzzle_.

Hilda took a deep breath and grabbed the paper brusquely, resuming her work. She ignored Justin's failed attempts in calling Alfendi's cellphone, and the Commissioner's call for back-up. Their only lead is the map. If Alfendi could solve it with a single glance, then she could too.

Analyze. Analyze. Analyze!

_Green lines: _There were so few.

_Blue lines_: There were more, but it tells her nothing.

_Yellow lines_: Blank.

_Red lines_: There were too many.

_What would Alfendi do?_ Hilda asked herself. _Crumple the paper?_

She examined it one more time. Her sharp nose almost touched the surface, as she leaned in closer…

_Think like a criminal_, a snobbish voice in her mind echoed. _You, dimwit. If you were a murderer, you wouldn't leave a hint about your next destination and victim, would you?_

The lines were everywhere, filling her vision and—

Her eyes landed on one particular spot. It was the only position where there were no lines sketched above it. No greens, reds, blues, and yellows. And she had a strange feeling that it was the answer to the puzzle.

"Come," she called to the other two. She did not wait for them and ran.

The moment she felt them gasping behind her, she said, "I know where he is."

"Figured that out," Justin grumbled, as he tried to catch up.

They reached Hilda's car, and a few seconds later, they officially broke all traffic rules. Barton and Justin were holding on in fear of losing their lives.

"Hilda!" Justin shouted, as he tried to right his sitting position. "Where the bloody hell are we going?"

Hilda took a sharp turn, earning a finger from an irate pedestrian. She exhaled, now understanding why Alfendi left in a hurry.

"It's not a hideout. Not at all," she responded breathlessly. "His next victim…..his next target…."

_The only place without lines._

Hilda bit her lip. "It's at Gressenheller University."

* * *

_To be continued..._

_**Preview quote:** "NO! STOP! I...I...I will shoot you down."_


End file.
